(Copyright.) ERIC DACRES:

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 28 August 1914, Page 7

(Copyright.) ERIC DACRES:

By WHliaai Murray Gray don, ' 1 Author of 'Under the White Terror, 1- 1 'In the Name of the Czar,' ' « Etc., Etc. — - ♦ —. 1

c A Romantic Story of Adventure during tte Matabele War. ,\ f _ ji

PART 8. S£ tr When it was nearly time to start, ,- l<>ic slipped unobserved into the little bedroom that had been fitted up for Doris. In the semi-darkness r he groped his way to the girl's pho- '" tograph, kissed it passionately, and thrust it into the inner pocket of i\s coat. , y[ "It'g not quite the fair thing," ' lie reflected, as he returned to his _ :pmpanions ; "but I'must have it." ; •^ A moment later the scout rode up j Lo the porch. "Come along, partners," he called ' from the saddle. "There's not a Kaffir in the neighbourhood." : Ail were ready for the summons, ! -j-, and they mounted with alacrity. ; , There were only seven horses to nine i men, but this was quickly arranged, j The scout, whose horse was the largest and strongest, took' Donovan [ ■ip with him, and Humphrey Cliur- . ton accepted a temporary seat be- ft hind Carter. It was about two hours after sunset when the start was made. The moon was rising; in a partly-cloud-:}d sky, and night birds were uttering their shrill notes in the distance. A short ride brought the party to o where Humphrey Churton's horse ° vras tied. It had not been molested, n and its owner was soon in the saddle. Then they rode on steadily g trotting or galloping, as the nature _ of the ground permitted. Churton and the scout led the r way, and Phil and Haygarth were ? near them. The slowest horses j. chanced to have fallen to the lot of Eric, Jacobus Mynhart, and a man named Wilson ; and these three were j in the rear. The road followed had been better named a track, for it was narrow and indistinct, and was j rarely used except by Churton ' , himself in travelling to and from ' Lawson's store. It wound slightly j through uneven and dense bush, with ' i hills and kopjes cropping up to right and left, and here and there ( a shallow stream to be forded. j Thus mile after mile slipped from , ander the muffled hoofs of the . horses. All around was solitude, . the silvery glow of tho rising moon, and utter absence of Kaffirs. For the most part the men. were silent, and each fervently longed to find Lawson's in safety— to find Humphrey Churton's niece sheltered there, j i 4 fearful doubt had begun to ob- | trude on Eric's mind, checking his j former high spirits, and he gave I little heed to Wilson's friendly con-; ! versation. Jacobus Mynhart rode between the two in gloomy and sul- j len abstraction, occasionally darting a sidelong glance at Eric. Up in front there was frequent speech be- ! tween the intervals of watching and, ! listening for danger. j "We ought to be about five miles: from your place," said Carter, after ' a short period of silence. j " Yes, about that," Humphrey Churton replied ; "and it's five i miles more to Lawson's." ■ "By the way," Carter went on, '■ "how do you account for the fact i that your house was spared while all the outbuildings were burned ? And was the destruction done by i by Matabele or by your native ser- j vants ?" j "By the seijyants, I feel sure," de- j clared Churton ;" and the fellow! who was killed probably refused to go with the rest from cowardice. I As for the house —well, I have only [ a theory. You remember my body- j servant, Makolo ?" i "Yes. He was a Matabele who j into Mashonaland somehow or I other." i "Exactly. He was with me for ! years near Salisbury, and accom- i panied me down here, where he : quickly gained a certain prestige among his own people. He was al- j ways a faithful and steady fellow, j and was devoted to my niece. And ; [ believe that Makolo, though he j turned a traitor with the rest, ! exerted his influence to have the ; house spared because he knew that rt contained many little belongings of Doris. At least^ I can't ac- , , count for the mystery in any other ! way." ! "It's a fair theory," said Carter, "and I- think you are right. The Kaffir nature is a peculiar one" "We're getting within four miles of Lawson's," Dan Shurlock joined in at that instant. "It's all quiet, but if there was firing at that distance, we could hear it on such a night as this." "I've no doubt we shall find the store all right," replied Carter. "And Doris alive and'safe," added Churton. "What will we do when we get there '?" the scout asked. "It depends on various circumstances, and on what we learn of the rising," Carter ' answered. " We'll join forces with Lawson's party, and if the chances are favourable, we may push on to Buluwayo. If not, we'll hold the store until something turns up." "It's a bad outlook," Humphrey Churton said, gloomily. " There's only a small garrison at Buluwayo, and it will be weeks before troops can get up country. I'm afraid by that time" A single loud shout close at hand cut short the sentence, and it was

Mowed by a burst of ferocious t 11s. The bush to right and left t the narrow road became sudden- t alive with Kaffirs. A shower of } isegais whizzed through the air, £ id several rifles cracked. i It was a devilishly-planned am- ; iseade, and for a moment destrucon seemed imminent. But the t en quickly rallied from the shock, slexpected as it was, and dashed 1 irward at a gallop. Several i arses were slightly wounded, how- i and two riders were missing, n assegai deep in his back had s ro ught poor Carter out of the ( iddle, and a rii:.-.- ball in the nroat had caused Donovan to loose is hold on the scout and topple i :> the ground dead. ', The seven surxivors plunged on, : ring right and hit as they rode i nd hoping to out-distance the : nem.v. But the Lvallirs followed, ■ L-Ui'.g like fiends, and when the : ush aiic'd was seen to be swarming ■itli them, the situation grew criti- : al indeed. Shurlock, who was leading, caught ight of a granite kopje about fifty ■ards to the left. He pointed to it s he turned round in his saddle. "Make for that," he cried, hoar- ; ely. "It's the only shelter near, f we reach it we can hold the levils at bay." All hoard the scout, and as he i werved his horse into the bush to | me side—that particular spot hap- j )ened to be free from the enemy— , Le was followed by Churton, Phil, Lnd Haygarth. Jacobus Mynhart was a little in j he rear, and Eric was delayed by j m act of heroism. He was along- j ide of Wilson, and the latter's ' lorse was just then shot. It fell >ver, bringing the rider to the jround. Eric partly checked' his )wn steed, and callen to the man to nount behind him. But as Wilson was in the act of doing so an asiagei entered his breast, and he Ditched over in a limp heap. Horror for the death of his comrade did not blind Eric to the 'earful peril that now menaced limself. The scout and his companions were some distance off, and the intervening bush was alive with Kaffirs. ' Mynhart had come up with Eric, and a glance showed them that to reach the kopje was' impossible, and that the only course which offered the least chance was towards Lawson's store. So they dug spurs and galloped furiously in that direction. The Kaffirs tried to close in, yelling to one another as they ran. But the fugitives broke through, escaping assegais and rifle-balls, and not until they had covered a mile did they venture to draw rein. CHAPTER XVITI. The horses had been pulled up, panting and covered with foam. The riders turned in the saddle and looked back. A mile behind they could see the kopje duskily outlined; against the moonlit horizon, but no red flashes were visible, no rifleshots or savage yells broke the oppressive silence. There was nothing to indicate the existence of friends or foes. "Good heavens, this is terrible,!" said Eric. "Three dead out of our little party —Wilson, Carter, and Donovan. But I believe the rest have escaped. The last glimpse I had of them they were close to the kopje. No doubt they are in safe shelter there, and the Kafiirs are afraid to . attack them. Hut that don't help us out of our fix ;we can't go back now." "Of course not," the Boer assented, looking furtively at his companion as he spoke. "But if our friends were in the kopje, they would fire some signal shots to let us know they are alive and safe." "Not if they believe that we are dead, which I am sure is l'>ecase," Eric replied. "They are not in the kopje," said Mynhart, with cool assurance. "Then where are they? You don't think the Kafiirs have killed them ?" "No. Finding that they were clear of the enemy, they changed their | minds. Instead of stopping at the kopje, they have circled in a deI tour"—he swept his arm towards j the v west—"and will work round in ; that direction to Lawson's store." I "By Jove, I believe you are-right!" ! exclaimed Eric. "Yes ; that is just ; what they would do if they found they had shaken off the Kallir^s. And what is to be our course, then? Shall we pick up the old road and ' press on to Lawson's ?" i "You do that," Mynhart answered, "while I cut across yonder a couple of miles to an old trail. It is the one our friends will likely take, and I expect to find them." J"I will go with you," said Eric. "No ;my plan is the best. 1 may miss the party, and they may strike out to the old road, in which case you will run across them. And it is possible they are still at the kopje; so one of us must reach Lawson'f to send aid to them if they do not come in. That is why "we must separate ;ench will have a bettei ' chance by himself." The Boer's argument, though cle ver, would not have stood the test of a cross-examination. But in his present uncritical state of mind ii seemed convincing enough to Rric and he accepted the propositior without hesitation or doubt. "Yes," he said, "1 see it is im po-rtant that one of us should read Lawson's, whether our friends ;'.r; besieged on the kopje or riding sai'.' ly by another road. I believe t.hi latter, but it won't do to taki | chances." "Come, then, we will separate am be ofl," replied Mynhart. "Bear ti

.he left, and you will soon fin a tne n old road. Tt will take you straight tJ to Lawson's, and I hardly expect ci you will meet any Kaffirs. Hide \\ slowly at first, for if I ride into o any danger I will try to get back e< and join you." n Erie promised to do so, and the ft two leaned from their saddles to shake hands and wish each other n* luck. The words and the clasp r< were hearty on Eric's part, but they w were not returned with equal n warmth by the Boer. Thus they h separated, and were quickly aj Idozen yards apart. jli Jacobus Mynhart rode at first due s west, in a direction exactly oppo- t site to that of his companion, j But when he had covered rather i< more, than a. mile he suddenly aban- h doned his intention of seeking the n mythical trail he had described. He ' s turned sharply north, and urged his ; a horse to a gallop, the animal's hoofs s making but a slight noise on the , a soft ground. After putting a mile 1 behind him he pulled up, looked f about, and dismounted. He tied i his horse to a sapling, and, with j r his rifle in his hands, he crept ! t quickly and cautiously through the 1 bush in an easterly direction—in t fact, towards the road that led to j c Lawson's. | \ Meanwhile, Eric, after bearing c fifty or sixty yards to the east, had c found the old road. He turned into ' i it, facing north, and rode on at a \ slow trot. His rifle was strapped i to his shoulder, and a loaded re- , volver was handy in his belt. He a knew that immunity from attack i was by no means to be counted \ upon, and he kept a keen look-out : s with eyes and ears. But barring ; j the sense of danger, he was in fairly | good spirits. ( He believed that Phil and his i 1 companions had escaped the Kaffirs, i that Mynhart would find them on 1 the other road, and that all w'ouid i come in together to Lawson's store, j And now he was on the way to < Lawson's himself. It was scarcely | i a three-mile ride, and if all went well, he would soon see Doris. "She is certainly there," he reflected, "and from Humphrey Churton's account, the place is strong, and has not been in any danger. > How surprised my darling will be to see me ! What shall I say to her ? How restrain my feelings ?" But it was not a time for reveries and dreams of this sort, and , Eric suddenly remembered that he was relaxing his caution. He handled the butt of his revolver nervously as he glanced about him. "I must be picking up speed," he muttered. "The sooner I am through this lonely stretch of bush the better. For a mile I have been riding slowly, and it's no use looking for Mynhart now. So here goes." Just then, before Eric could use the spur, the horse shied a little to one side, as though frightened at some invisible' object. The next i instant there came from the thick scrub to the left of the road a red , flash and a stunning report. With the crack of the weapon—for such it was—Eric felt a blow over the heart, and a sharp and sting- ' ing pain. He swayed in the saddle , from the shock, realising vaguely I that he had been shot. A great weakness came over Mm, and he toppled forward. But he was not entirely unconscious, and with both hands he seized and clung to the ' horse's mane. ; Meanwhile the steed had plunged forward madly, keeping fairly to the middle of the road, and for the better part of a mile it carried its half-senseless burden at a gallop. Finally the horse, badly blown, gradually eased up and stopped. Eric ; released his hold, fell to one side . in a soft spot, and rose unsteadily ; to his feet. ; The dash through the cool night air had revived him, and he remembered clearly what had happened. His chest felt sore and bruised, and !it caused him keen pain to breathe. 'He nervously put his hand to the i spot, but there was no blood on his ; fingers when he looked at them. He - ' tore open his coat and shirt —there ■ , was no sign of a wound, save a . swollen lump on the skin. Then a clue to the mystery flash- ;,: ed upon him. lie saw that the i buckle of his rifle-strap, which restjed on his breast, was bent and ' ; dented. He took from his coat poc- ; I ket the picture of Doris and a 1 I small account book. The bullet had . I passed through the picture, through > ; the book, and glanced harmlessly off I the buckle. Eric laughed aloud with relief. "Thank God !" he said, fervently. 1 "How marvellous —how truly provit dential was my escape !" r He kissed the photograph, and reI turned it and the book to his I pocket. He felt as strong as ever, 7 \ and scarcely heeded the pain the 2 bruise gave him. b i"I must be getting on," he decids cd. "That was some prowling Kaf- ; fir who heard me coming and shot s ,me from ambush, and more of the t black ruffians are likely lurking t about." r , With that he turned round—he had been standing with his face to ■- the south—and caught the bridle of t the horse ; the animal had been s waiting quietly in the road, its t foaming sides heaving. V/ith one :, foot in the stirrup Eric happened n to glance towards the north, and what he saw struck a sudden and i- awful terror to his heart. A glarh ing red light hovered on the hori- :> /.on, and it was not so far distant •- but that smoke and sparks could be c made out. c "Merciful Heaven, it's Lawson's store !" he cried, hoarsely, as he d swung himself into the saddle and o urged the jaded beast forward at

ts top speed. "Yes, it must be • hat ! Hut there is \\i* liriiig—l ould hear shots at this distance. 5 /hat can it mean '? Is the fighting , I ver, and have the Kafiirs butcher- ; d all the defenders ? And Doris— ' ; ly darling ! —what has been her., ; ite'l Ah, God !" i He was like a madman for a few ; loments, blind to all reason and i eckless of danger. He groaned nth agony as he pictured Doris ; 1 tieeting death in horrible forms, and i ier fair body lying amid the flames. ■: Te made vows of vengeance, and ■ onged to find himself engaged ingle-handed with the fiendish Ma- ! abele. On and on he was borne at a fur- : oub gallop through the night, for , ie drove the spur mercilessly. Under- ■ leath, the flying hoofs pounded the :oft earth of the road, to right : md left whizzed a moonlit blur of icrub, kopjes, and low-lying hills, ; uid in front the red flames and the j urid glare gradually dropped and I aded. The silence continued as Eric drew lear the spot, and now he fell in;o a more rational state of mind. He reflected that in all probability ;he garrison of Lawson's had abanloned the place and made for Buluwayo, taking Doris with them, mil that the Kafiirs, coming later an the scene, were looting and burnng out of sheer devilishness. It *vas even possible that some other . ilace than Lawson's was on fire. ! These things comforted him, and when he was within a quarter of a nile of the rapidly-sinking fire—the iiew was obscured by timber and scrub —he was himself again, alert j Eind prudent. I He dismounted, tied his horse securely, and crept forward on foot , through the bush. As he advanced ! not a sound reached his ears save j the crackling of the flames. He j quickened his pace, feeling secure, i and presently emerged on a large , clearing, and the first glimpse sick- | ened his heart. CHAPTER XIX. ON THE RIGHT TRACK. From the edge of the bush Eric ! saw the smouldering ruins of a largq building and several s-maller ones. The former was still blazing in places, and the unsteady light of the flames revealed a number of dark and ghastly-looking figures scattered on the ground. And that this was indeed Lawson's there i could be no doubt. Just beyond the ruins lay the main road that connected Salisbury and BuluWayo, shining white or red as the moon or the fire played upon it. For two or three minutes Eric waited, and then he was satisfied that no Kaffirs were in the vicinity. He felt sick and faint with the horror of what he dreaded to find, and a fervent prayer was on his lips as he crept boldly forward into the open. He wandered here and there, unable to repress a shudder as he examined each mutilated body. Those at the rear and sides of the store were Matabele ; they numbered nearly a score, and were all stiff and cold. On the road in front of the main building lay perhaps a dozen Kaffirs, and mingled among them were five white men and three horses. But of Doris there was no trace, and a ray of comfort stole into Eric's heart as he anxiously extended "his search to wider limits. He examined every foot, of the clearing, every clump of bushes, the embers of the outbuildings, and peered into the glowing ruins of the store. The result was the same —the girl was not to be found. i "There is still hope, thank God !" jhe reflected. "If my darling was i here, she has found some means of ■ escape. Ah, but could the Mata- ■ bele have carried her off alive ?" The thought was agony to him, , but he tried in vain to rid his mind of it. Half-mechanically he crept back to the road, and a closer inspection of its ghastly horrors brought him some relief and a new discovery. As to the latter, he found that the bodies of all the white men and of the horses were . still slightly warm, and that most of the Kaffirs lying here were in the same condition. Also the hoofprints of two or three horses could be traced across the road to a 1 rough bridle-track in the oppositelying bush. Other hoofmarks diverged to the right towards Buluwayo. I "By Jove, I have it !" Eric exI claimed. "It is all clear now ! There has been stiff fighting going !on earlier in the day, and that is ; when the Kaffirs were killed on all sides of the store. Then the siege j was either raised or the attack got : too heavy. At all events, for some unknown reason, the defenders made | a dash this evening for the bush, • and were set upon at once. Five j were killed, and several got safely into that narrow* road yonder —the ' tracks in the direction of Salis- ! bury were probably made by rider- ; less horses. Then the Kafiirs fired the buildings and left. And Doris, thank God, is certainly with those , who escaped." ilt was a sound train of reasoning though based on purely circumstantial evidence. To convince himself further, Eric crept cautiously into the bush path across the road, which was from five tc six feet wide. He advanced a dozen yards, finding unmistakable proof that horseman had lately [ passed by. As he was about tc return, he saw, a short, distance ahead, a body lying in the moonI light. Whether it was a man or c woman he could not tell. He dashed to the spot, dreading the worst. Then he gave a sigh o heartfelt relief. The body was

hat or a bearded Englishman, ana c was quite clea'd. Hie lay on one : ide, and blood was- oozing, frpm.a j ullet-wound in his bat'-.k. "Poor fellow !," mut/tered Eric ; j nd as he spoke he camght sight of [ handkerchief clemched in the ' mn's stiffening fingers. He tore it ' >ose with dill3culty H • It- was a ainty piece of linen,, embroidered, ! .nd still faintly perfaimed, and as j c looked at it saw in one corner ' , couple of initials. By the moon- j ight he managed to .read them —the i otters D. G." j "Good Heaven, this belonged to ! )oris !" he gasped. "What does t mean ? " What has been my darlng's fate ?" < j He was answered toy a voice that ironounced his own name, and from j he thick scrub ten feet further up j he road stepped Doris Churton her- ! elf. She wore' a grey travelling I acket trimmed with light fur, and! icr hair was dishevelled and hat- i ess. In the moonlight her face, itained with tears ami yet radiant' vith amazed joy, looked more beauiful than ever. Timidly she crept j ■owards Eric, who was for the nionent speechless and rooted fast. "It was your voice I heard," she ;ried, in sobbing and hysterical iones. "It is your face I see, Eric. .)h, I am mad, I am dreaming" That quickly he leapt forward and j :aught the girl in his arms, strainng- her to his breast. "My darling ny own darling, thank Heaven that [ have found you !" he said, passionately, as he pressed hot kisses 3n her lips ,and eyes. But Doris rieard nothing, for she had fainted. ; Eric discovered this w-ihen his j emotion had partly, spent itself, and ! lis first step was dictated by pru- j rlence and cool-headedness. He car- i ried the girl a few< feet into the bush, and placed her gently on a patch of soft grass. Having neither spirits nor water, he chafed her hands and whispered her name. His rifle was on.his back and his pistol in his belt ; he knew that he jnight have to use them at any moment. In a short time Doris opened her j eyes and the colour returned to her j cheeks. She shuddered, and then looked up at Eric with mingled doubt and happiness. "Is it a dream ?" she asked. "Oh, Eric" He kissed her on the lips. "It is I, Eric Dacres," he said. "You have not been dreaming. God has mercifully united us, Doris —my own darling. I want you to be convinced —to be calm —so that 1 can take steps tor the safety of both of us. Do you understand ?" "Yes, I understand, dear Eric," she whispered. "I know that lam awake. I remember all the dreadful things that happened. But you ? This is not England—it is South Africa ; and you are here with me, 'Eric." "Yes, I am here, sweetheart." "Did you follow me ?" she asked. Her lips parted in a smile, and deep love shone from her eyes. ■ "No ; how could I?" he replied. "I did not know you were coming. I only learned that you were here a day or two ago." "But I wrote to you, Eric." "Ah ! To the Grand Hotel, perhaps ?" "Yes." "Then that accounts for my not getting the letter. But surely you received mine ?" "No ; did you write ?" "Yes, explaining my departure." "And to the right address ?" "I am certain of that." "I never saw the letter," Doris said, slowly, and with something more than surprise in her voice. "It must have been lost, or—or stolen." "It was a long letter," Eric continued. "It explained all —that I was going to Africa to make my fortune, to work for you, and that some day I would come back and claim you." "And now we are here together !" "Yes, thank God !" She looked into his.face with tearful and loving eyes. "Eric, you were foolish to leave me—to dream of running, off," she said. "My darling !" he^ whispered, kissing her twice. He was afraid to say more —afraid to trust himself ; and there were sterner things to [ think about than the sweetness of love. Hurriedly he gave an outline of his adventures to the time when the girl had found him. Her face clouded a little at the mention of Fergus Haygarth's name —Eric did not observe this—and she wept for joy when she learned that her uncle was in all probability safe. "I am quite calm now," she said, sitting up in Eric's arms, "and I am not a bit afraid. lam ready to face danger with you, as we did in the Algerian desert. And that was only a year ago ! But, oh, this is ten times more horrible !"- ---"I know it is," Eric assented; "but I will protect and save you, darling, and I am sure that we will soon be among friends. In a« short time Humphrey Churton and his party should arrive at Lawson's store." 'Doris shuddered violently at the name. "It was horrible" she began. "Don't speak of it —don't speak of it," Eric interrupted, tenderly. "And yet it may help my future plans to know what happened." he added. "Yes, that is true," replied Doris. "I will tell you all, Eric—l don't shrink from it now." (To be Continued). Gibbs : "That's a pretty rockylooking umbrella you have there, old man. I wouldn't ; carry one like that." Dibbs : "I know you wouldn't ; that's the reason I carry it when you're about." 1408.